Guilty Pleasure
by Silent Sensei
Summary: Schuldich discovers what it means to love. Schu/Brad
1. Default Chapter

I've always loved clubs. The music, the people, the shots, the emotions. No matter where you go in Tokyo, you find unhappy people. Girls who think they're fat, guys who can't get a date, homosexuals who are afraid to come out of the closet and try picking up a guy…I never had that problem. Men, women, asexuals, anything that looks good. Who gives a shit what other people think? I know what goes on inside their heads; they're all just as insecure as everyone else.  
  
But me? Insecure? Hell no, I don't have to be depressed to get sloshed. Clubs are just an outlet for all the shit I have to put up with in Schwartz. Not that I'd trade it for anything, but I hate listening to people talk at me. If Crawford tells me we have to protect Takatori tonight, he doesn't care what I have to say about it anyways, so eventually I tune it out. I managed to escape this evening before Brad could catch me and find some other grunge work for me to do, but I know he's gonna be pissed when I come home. Might as well get my kicks before I die, right?  
  
The air in the dark room is stifling hot, but it adds to the overall rush as I sit down at a table and signal a waitress. A leggy blonde comes over with a tray, and I'm almost afraid she'll drip mascara onto my shirt as she bends down, pen in hand. Not even bothering to be subtle, I lean back and raise an eyebrow at the first slut of the night. She doesn't seem to notice my contempt and, in a voice WAY too perky for my Friday headache, asks how she can help me. You can help me by tearing out your vocal chords, bitch. I'm too tired to be sarcastic though, so I just give her my order and drop my forehead onto my hands as she bounces away. Ehh…bouncing reminds me of happy children…And happy children reminds me of why I fled from the house o' Schwartz in the first place.  
  
Honestly, children scare me. Especially children somehow related to the oversize koala we call boss. I didn't know Takatori even had kids, let alone nieces. But unfortunately, he does, and since Farfarello would have had a field day with innocent, god-loving munchkins, I was stuck with three screaming brats while Crawford had his weekly "meeting" with their uncle. Gaa…thinking about that makes my headache worse-oh look, it's the nice waitress again. Hello nice waitress, you'd better have my drink or I may have to beat you with your tray.  
  
"Here ya go, hot stuff, enjoy." Then, horror of horrors, she has the audacity to WINK at me and jiggle back down the merry path of ignorance. Nobody WINKS at Schuldich, because that would be flirting, and if you have half a brain you know not to flirt with a German assassin when all he wants to do is get drunk and pick up a whore, none of which involves any foreplay whatsoever. Is that too much to ask?  
  
I pick up the bottle and pour liquid sin into a shotglass, downing my first hit. Without seeming interested, I scope out the people sitting at other tables. Nothing worth looking at there. I shift my eyes over to the dance floor and find one or two worthy candidates, but they'll have to come to me because I can't muster up the energy to move yet. Reaching a hand into the pocket of my coat, I pull out a cigarette and light it up, hoping this night won't get any worse.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Four cigarettes and thirteen shots later, I am DEFINITELY feeling like crap. I hadn't moved from my table in an hour, and all the women and gay men who approached me were either too ugly or too talkative so I was still sitting by myself. Why couldn't I enjoy myself this time? What was so different about tonight than any other night out? I had a high tolerance for alcohol, but ten shots was usually enough to float all my pain away. If anything, my headache was worse and the constant chatter of the people around me was not helping. I didn't even bother to listen to anyone else's thoughts because at this point, I just didn't give a shit.  
  
Peering through the liquor-induced haze that was surrounding my eyes, I could have sworn I saw Crawford, but it was just some bloke with glasses like his. Wow, I must be really drunk, I think to myself. Good thing I picked a club within walking distance of the house. The next thought that enters my semi-rational mind is that if I'm seeing Crawford look-alikes freaking to techno, it's time to go home. I throw some money down on the table and stagger to the door, hoping everyone is asleep by the time I come in.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Well, obviously there's no god, because Crawford was waiting for me when I threw myself into the living room. Whoever said walking was healthy never tried to walk home with a liver full of alcohol and two gaijin kkangpae slamming them into a brick wall. Why they thought a loser like me had anything of value, I don't know, but in the end I gave them my cigarettes in exchange for a dark bruise spreading over my left cheekbone. Needless to say, I was not in the mood for a lecture from Flashing Glasses Man.  
  
"Whatever you're gonna yell at me, can you do it when my ears have popped?"  
  
Crawford glares and stands up, arms crossed over his chest. "What the hell happened to you? You look like crap."  
  
I give him a drunken salute. "Thank you for noticing, Adolph, can I go to bed now?"  
  
Glare, narrow eyes, frown. The Bradley Workout. "No, first you're going to explain to me why you think you can go out whenever you want and come home shit-faced. We have a mission on Monday and I'll be busy with paperwork tomorrow, so you need to lock up Farfarello and take Nagi to the computer store. Having a hangover is just going to make you even more whiny than usual."  
  
I slumped back against the wall and closed my eyes. What did he expect me to say to him? Yes, Mommy, I was a bad boy, I'll never do it again, promise? "Look, Crawford, all I want to do is go to bed and I'll be fine in the morning. I had a tough day, I wanted to relax."  
  
"So you decided to beat yourself up in the process?" Eh. The sarcasm is sounding a little dangerous, and for who knows what reason the alcohol was starting to wear off.  
  
"Noo…I ran into some thugs on the way home."  
  
Oh here it comes, the Almighty Eyeroll. Followed by the Frusterated Flinging of Arms.  
  
"Schuldich, do you ever stop and THINK about the consequences your actions may have? If you hadn't gone out and got drunk tonight, then I would have had just one less burden to deal with."  
  
By this time, I was getting angry. "So that's what I am, a burden? I didn't ask for your little lecture, Crawford, you're treating me like I'm a little kid!"  
  
"You're ACTING like a little kid!"  
  
Oldest line in the book. "Well you're not my father, my uncle, my brother, OR my friend. You don't need to stay up and reprimand me every time I go out! Why can't you just leave me the hell alone??"  
  
"Schu?" Nagi was standing at the bottom of the stairs, peeking into the room with his hair still tousled from sleep and his pajamas rumpled.  
  
"Go back to bed Nagi," Crawford ordered.  
  
Nagi opened wide eyes when he saw my face. Ignoring Brad, he padded over to me and looked up. "What happened, Schu?"  
  
I gave him a haphazard grin and shook my head. "Don't worry about it, chibi, I had a little problem on the street."  
  
Crawford pulled Nagi away by his arm. "Go upstairs, I need to talk to Schuldich."  
  
Nagi squinted accusingly in the dimly lit room. "Don't yell at him, Crawford, you'll make him upset again."  
  
I shot him a warning look, but he either chose to ignore it or couldn't see me.  
  
"Nagi, this is between me and Schuldich, go to your room!"  
  
"Schu only went out because you made him mad, now you're only going to make things worse!"  
  
"Nagi, I said GO TO YOUR ROOM!"  
  
Sulking, Nagi walked back to the stairs. He turned around and looked at the two of us. "You better not hit him again, Crawford, or I'll set Farfie loose on your ties," he warned before returning to the second floor.  
  
"Why can't you give the kid a break, he doesn't like to see us fight."  
  
"I don't care; if you were truly interested in his well-being, you'd be here for him. Don't try and make me feel guilty because you went out and came home wasted."  
  
This was getting old, so I tried pushing past him on my way to the stairs. He held out his hand and gripped my arm, knocking me back. I hit the wall with a soft thud, wincing as my shoulder blade caught the edge. His face was inches from mine as he leaned in and hissed at me.  
  
"Don't even think about it, Schuldich, I'm not finished with you."  
  
I glared back, wanting to punch his nose in. "Back OFF Crawford, you're not my keeper. I don't have to take this shit from anyone, especially a man with a perpetual stick up his ass." I shoved him away and took two steps before he grabbed me again and whirled me around. Without thinking, I swung my arm towards his face. More of a reflex than an attempt to injure him, but his intent was clear as he caught my fist in mid swing and hit me in the stomach. Doubling over in pain, I dropped to my knees and threw up on the carpet, terrified because for that moment in time, I was defenseless.  
  
Crawford waited until I was finished, then pulled me to my feet. Apparently he was regretting his action, because his face looked ashamed though he didn't apologize. I wasn't expecting him to, anyway, but I also wasn't expecting him to follow me up to my room and close the drapes. I flopped onto the bed facedown and groaned, my mouth still tasting of liquor and vomit. I felt the mattress sag as he sat down and fidgeted, unsure of what to say. With great effort, I raised my head up and looked at him through half-closed eyes. Crawford NEVER fidgeted, and he never looked guilty after he hit me. Then again, he never slugged me quite that hard, either, and never in the stomach.  
  
"Sorry about the mess on the floor," I croaked out. He shook his head and twisted his hands.  
  
"It's ok, I'll clean it up."  
  
Awkward silence. Was Crawford actually trying (dare I say it) to be nice? After a few attempts to clear his throat, he pretended to study the pattern on my blanket and spoke in a hoarse whisper.  
  
"I shouldn't have hit you. You shouldn't have gone out, but I shouldn't have done that in retaliation. It's not like you haven't done this before," he added in a wry tone.  
  
Too exhausted and confused to deal with a new side of Crawford, I waved my hand and pressed the uninjured side of my face to the pillow.  
  
"Dun worry about it," was my muffled reply. Another minute went by, and then Crawford left, closing the door behind him. Telling myself I'd puzzle it out in the morning, I let my eyes drop shut and fell into a much-needed sleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

I opened my eyes to weary sunlight attempting to filter through my closed drapes.  
  
"Good luck," I muttered to the feeble rays. The hangover that was pounding in my head far outweighed any early-morning cheerfulness I had a chance of attaining. Just the mere thought of getting out of bed made me groan, and apparently my suffering was loud enough to be heard by the Japanese boy next door.  
  
"Schuldich? Are you awake?"  
  
"Yeah, but I think I might be dying."  
  
Nagi opened the door cautiously, tiptoeing so as not to disturb me. Nice try kid, but your feet sound like bricks of lead to my poor wasted ears.  
  
Sitting up required a great deal of effort, but I felt better after my eyes refocused. Squinting in the dim light, I could see the youngest member of Schwartz slowly approaching me with a tray full of food.  
  
"Crawford says to take these after you eat," he whispered, pressing two small pills into my hand. I nodded in reply and set them on the tray, which was now resting on my bedside table. Directing my attention towards the food, I sighed at the sight of a muffin and a small bowl of soup. Miso, I think Nagi told me once.  
  
"Chibi, this is rabbit food," I protested. Nagi shook his head firmly and picked up the spoon.  
  
"Crawford says that you can't take the aspirin if you don't eat, and if you don't take the aspirin you'll be bitchy all day."  
  
"If you quote Crawford at me all morning, I may have to throw the tray at you." Nagi rolled his eyes and smacked my bruised cheek lightly.  
  
"AAAHHH-mmphhhh…" The second I started to shout, the brat plunged the spoonful of soup into my open mouth, a trick he learned from watching Brad give Farfarello his meds.  
  
I glared at him with my mouth closed and my cheeks bulging, absolutely refusing to swallow. Heaving an overly dramatic sigh, Nagi climbed onto the bed and tried pinching my nose shut so I would panic and swallow. Given three more seconds, he would have succeeded, but thankfully Crawford chose that moment to walk into the room. On the flip side, I was so surprised to see him that I swallowed WAY too fast and started choking. Nagi ignored my pitiful cries for air and slid onto the floor, looking at the American with innocent blue eyes. Che. Innocent my ass.  
  
Crawford merely nodded to Nagi, which in stuffy gaijin-ese indicates a dismissal.  
  
"I tried to get him to eat, but he's being a pussy about it," Nagi informed him before running out of the room. Pussy? Who taught him that??  
  
"I am NOT being a pussy, I'm just not hungry," I stated after catching my breath. Crawford dragged over a chair and sat down next to the bed, choosing not to reply. Instead he just-SAT there for a full three minutes until I began to feel uncomfortable. There was nothing else I could do with my hands, so eventually I just picked up the muffin and began poking bits of it into my mouth. Crawford smiled that smug little smile of his, the one that makes me want to smack him, and leaned back in his chair.  
  
"Hungry now?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Whew. Crawford had finally retreated back to his office and left me to throw up the rest of the muffin. Obviously the man had never had a hangover, because he couldn't seem to realize that us drunkards don't want FOOD, we want a medicinal cigarette and a bottle of aspirin. I say medicinal with the utmost sincerity. However, when I looked for my trench coat and my Marlboro stash, I couldn't find them. Groaning, I swung my legs off the bed in an attempt to get out. About five years later, I felt my feet hit the floor like sandbags. Standing up was another of those actions that made me feel like I had aged a few dozen years. Don't ask me how I made it to the hallway, but it required a flood of curses, most of them in German. When I tripped down the last six stairs, I surprised Nagi with a genuine American phrase.  
  
"OW, FUCK!"  
  
Slam.  
  
Stomp stomp.  
  
"Schuldich, what the hell is going on out here?"  
  
Oops. Disturbed the wild Bradley in his natural habitat…  
  
"Ah, I fell down the stairs." From my position on the floor, all I could see was shiny black shoes and cream-colored pants. I craned my head back and squinted at him. "Why are you in a suit? Are you going somewhere?"  
  
Crawford looked extremely annoyed, which I suppose meant that the bizarre personality change was a one-time thing.  
  
"Yes, I have a meeting with Takatori and a client. YOU have to take Nagi to pick up a few blank disks; or did you forget about that in your state of intoxication last night?"  
  
I must have cringed, because his body stiffened but his eyes said he was sorry. "I didn't forget, I came downstairs to get my coat."  
  
"Hopefully you'll take a shower before you go out," he quipped, eyes back to their usual cold demeanor.  
  
I glared at him, but trying to maintain dignity when you're laying on the floor is hard. Sitting up, I replied, "I was looking for my cigarettes, wise-ass."  
  
Crawford snorted and looked at his watch. "I have to go, but your coat's at the cleaners and I threw out your cigarettes."  
  
"You did WHAT??!"  
  
Moving away from me and picking up his briefcase, he coolly stated that "my coat smelled like Wild Turkey and engine exhaust, and that smoking was hazardous to my health."  
  
Well gee golly, thanks for updating me, Uncle Crawford.  
  
I had to fight the urge to throw something at the older man as he walked to the door, but my patience was reaaally tried when he called back over his shoulder:  
  
"If you even THINK about leaving Nagi at the computer store, you still have Farfie to take care of. Oh, and he needs his shot this morning."  
  
Good thing he closed the door when he did, otherwise he'd be yelling around a mouthful of coffee and shards of glass.  
  
I don't have much patience when it comes to Crawford.  
  
  
  
A/N: Sorry to the readers who thought this was a one-shot fic ( It IS in fact a continuing story, and I'm trying to get chapter 3 out by this weekend. The only reason I could write the second chappie was because I have a day off today for studying. Exams start tomorrow, so please remember to review so I know I'm not wasting my time!! 


	3. Chapter 3

Boring. That's the one word that describes my day. No cigarettes, no alcohol, and no escape from Nagi's pleading. We ended up buying not only blank discs, but a new color printer. When I asked the gaki what he needed a color printer for, he blushed and went looking for Farfie. I assume that means he's printing hentai pics.  
  
Shudder. Nagi+ hentai is not a good mix. And that's only part of what made my day so crappy. Thoughts of hentai pics led to thoughts of shonen-ai, and thoughts of shonen-ai somehow twisted themselves into images of the American fuhrer himself. I couldn't stop thinking about how it had felt to have Crawford being so nice for once. I mean, he shows that he cares in his own stand-offish way, but I had never seen that kind of genuine sympathy that was reflected in his dark eyes. Eyes that shut off the world but intrigued me all the same. Eyes that-  
  
Stop it Schuldich. You are not thinking about Crawford's eyes. In fact, you're not thinking about Crawford at all.  
  
And while I'm dreaming, I'd like a pony.  
  
Of course I'm thinking about Crawford. Denial only works when the deniar wants it to work. If thinking about the way Crawford's shoulders fill his white suit jacket is a sin, I'll enjoy this guilty pleasure for as long as I can. This is probably just a phase anyways. It's not like I love Bradley Crawford. Schuldich, you do not love Bradley Crawford.  
  
"You love Crawford?" Shit, did I say that out loud?  
  
I whirled around to face Farfarello, eyes narrowed. "No, I do not love Crawford. I don't love ANYBODY, you psycopath."  
  
Farfie shrugged, his face unreadable. "You're not completely sane yourself."  
  
I snorted, unwilling to admit he was right. But he was not right about my feelings for Crawford.  
  
Hmm, feelings and Crawford. Almost as much of an oxymoron as Nagi and hentai.  
  
"At least I don't give myself scars for kicks," I retorted.  
  
"Blood hurts God."  
  
I rolled my eyes. As if Farfie hadn't reiterated this many, many times.  
  
"You know what else hurts God?"  
  
I turned away and didn't reply, grabbing a cup from the cabinet. Farf took that as a signal to continue.  
  
"Sodomy."  
  
The cup slipped from my fingers and shattered on the ground.  
  
"Fuck," I muttered, but I wasn't focused on the broken pieces of glass. I looked into the Irishman's lone brandy eye as he gazed back at me, emotionless.  
  
'Where did you get that idea?' The last thing I needed was someone overhearing this conversation.  
  
'You said you didn't love Crawford.'  
  
'So?'  
  
'If you did, God would weep at such sinful lust.'  
  
'Lust? I do NOT lust for that bastard!'  
  
Farfie didn't say anything, just continued to regard me silently. He didn't NEED to say anything , because I could read the unasked question in his mind.  
  
Are you sure? 


	4. Chapter 4

My conversation with Farfie was so unnerving that I ran upstairs with total disregard for the broken glass on the kitchen floor. I would get hell if somebody stepped on a piece, but I was too upset to care. What I was feeling was wrong in every sense of the word. Sure, I had had affairs with guys before, but this was Crawford. The man was like a block of ice. You just did NOT have an affair with Crawford. It just…wasn't done.  
  
I burst through the door of my room and threw myself onto the bed, wincing as I landed on a chopstick.  
  
"Damnit, Nagi, can't you fuck up your own sheets?"  
  
"What?" he hollered from downstairs.  
  
I stalked to the open doorway and leaned over the railing. "I nearly stabbed myself with one of your chopsticks! What were you doing, screwing a rice bowl?"  
  
"Haha, very funny." He was standing at the base of the stairs now. "For your information, that's YOUR chopstick, genius."  
  
"Is not!"  
  
"You left all your shit up there from breakfast this morning," he yelled.  
  
Oh yeah…  
  
"Watch your mouth, minor," I retorted. I returned to my room and slammed the door, watching in satisfaction as the clock fell off the nightstand. I picked up the fallen appliance and peered at it, my relief short-lived. Kuso…it's 5:00…  
  
Outside, I can hear the shift of gears as a car parks in front of the house.  
  
Crawford's home.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I close the door behind me as I step into the foyer, sighing and taking off my glasses to rub my eyes. I had a vision today, but it was so blurred and unclear that it had haunted me the entire afternoon. As a result, I now had a raging headache.  
  
"Is anybody home?" I called. Upstairs, a door opened and shut, footsteps padded down the hall, another door opened, the water turned on, and the water turned off. Odd. I replaced my glasses and looked upwards.  
  
I cocked an eyebrow at Schuldich's form leaning against the banister, rubbing a towel through his wet hair. He looked down at me and grinned lazily.  
  
"Sorry I didn't hear you calling, I just got out of the shower."  
  
"No you didn't, you just stuck your head under the faucet."  
  
"I know, now you can't yell at me for wasting water, ne?"  
  
I shook my head and ascended the staircase. "Schuldich, you make less and less sense everyday."  
  
He backed up a step as I approached him. No flippant comeback? I looked at him curiously before moving past him to my bedroom. He didn't move, just chewed on his thumbnail and looked at the wall. Shrugging, I tossed my jacket onto the back of a chair and began loosening my tie. Two hands reached around my neck and did the job for me.  
  
I looked back to see Schuldich chewing his nail again.  
  
"Stop that," I ordered, knocking his hand away from his mouth. He complied, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched me untuck my shirt and slip it over my head. I stepped into the bathroom, looking for my khakis. I pulled those on once I had the suit pants off, and then I removed my glasses. Bending down to rinse my face, I realized Schuldich still hadn't spoken. I looked up at him, water dripping from my bangs.  
  
"Do you need something?"  
  
In the old days, Schuldich and I had formed a loose sort of friendship. This was before we found Farfarello, and before the German had started frequenting the clubs every free night we had. Now, he would still lounge around in my room or occasionally accompany me when I ran errands, but the distance was greater and easily more noticeable. Things were busier, too, so I was home even less often than he was. Any other day, I probably would have ordered him out, but the incident of the previous night made me realize just how bad things had become.  
  
He shook his head, several pieces of wet red hair falling down from the loose ponytail he had formed with a rubber band from my desk. I looked into slanted jade eyes and searched for ulterior motives, but came up empty. Standing in the middle of my room with a Stanford sweatshirt and baggy jeans, he looked like a stray puppy. Wait a minute…  
  
"Is that my shirt?"  
  
Schuldich looked down at himself and nodded, not quite meeting my eyes as he raised his head. "Yeah, I borrowed it today 'cause it was cold and you took my jacket."  
  
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the dresser, pulling on a white sweater. "Whatever. Did you pick up the discs?"  
  
"Er…ja."  
  
I turned around to face him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why did you hesitate? Did you buy the discs or not?"  
  
He handed me my glasses. "Well, yes, but we also bought a –cough- color printer…"  
  
"You bought WHAT?"  
  
"Nagi conned me into it! He said he needed it for something, and you know how he gets all teary and pleading and in the end I had to give in!"  
  
"If you don't have the willpower to stand up to a 15 year old child…"  
  
"Who cusses like a sailor…  
  
"Given the fact he lives with YOU, I hardly think Nagi is at fault," I snapped, shoving him into the hallway. He sputtered excuses as I shut the door and dragged him by the front of his shirt down the stairs. When we got to the living room, I dumped him into an armchair and told him to sit still and shutup. Being the mature adult he is, he stuck his tongue out at me and pouted while I retrieved my briefcase from the foyer.  
  
I sat down on the couch and opened the case, pulling out a videocassette from one of the pockets. Farfarello had materialized from the kitchen, licking a knife and sitting crosslegged on the floor. I told Schuldich to find Nagi as I stood up and stuck the video into the VCR, searching for the remote under the couch cushions.  
  
Schuldich returned with Nagi in tow, plopping himself down next to me as Nagi occupied the armchair.  
  
"Hi Crawford. Did you rent a movie?" he asked.  
  
"No, this is from Taketori." Schuldich groaned and muttered something about asian porn. Ignoring him, I hit the rewind button. "He showed it to me today, it's just a few short clips of someone he wants us to keep an eye on."  
  
"Is it a business contact?"  
  
"Hai. We have reason to believe the guy in the video is embezzling money from a company Taketori owns part of. He'll be at a social function next Wednesday night, and all of us are required to attend."  
  
"Aw mannn…" Schuldich sighed dramatically and flung himself onto me. Wriggling around, he managed to fit his head into my lap and waited for me to start the video.  
  
"Comfortable?" I asked sarcastically.  
  
"Quite." He grinned up at me and I found myself swallowing a sharp retort. I let him stay there, earning an odd look from Nagi when I pushed the play button instead of hitting him with the remote.  
  
I had seen the tape before, but I watched a second time as a young man's face appeared on the screen. He was approximately 24 years old, an ambitious entrepreneur from Korea with short black hair and typical Asian features. In the clips that followed, he was always wearing a white business suit with the top buttons on his shirt undone, revealing a relaxed, overconfident executive figure.  
  
Numerous years with Esset and then Shwartz had taught me to study the faces of those around me and be able to read their feelings like Schuldich read their thoughts. I did so now, fixing my eyes first on Farfarello, who had leaned back against the wall and was still lapping at his knife. His one wine-colored eye was staring at the television, and from the increased fervor in his ministrations, I could tell he was becoming excited at the idea of new blood to be spilled.  
  
I looked over at Nagi next, who was gazing at the footage without any real interest. His arms dangled over the sides of the armchair, and he looked as if he was about to fall asleep, though not from boredom, seeing as he fought to keep his eyes open. If he had been bored, he wouldn't have tried to stay awake. I made a mental note to put him to sleep earlier tonight.  
  
Schuldich was last, and I didn't need to look at him for very long before he had entered my thoughts.  
  
'Quite the bishonen, eh?'  
  
'Don't even think about it. The only screwing you're going to do is with his mind.'  
  
'Aw, is Braddykins jealous?'  
  
'Shutup and watch the video.'  
  
Even in my mind, I could feel his mental pout. I paused the tape for a minute as a list of his vital stats popped up.  
  
"His name is Lee Kye Sang, 24 years of age, works at Global Tech, Tokyo division," I narrated, because I knew they couldn't read Korean. "Single, lives in an apartment on Kaikan Blvd, CEO at Global. Lives with a younger sister, 16 years of age, who attends Nagashima Private-"  
  
"Hey, that's my school!" Nagi interjected, suddenly awake. He looked sheepish at his outburst and put a pillow over his face.  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Her name is Lee Eunjin, goes by Jin." I played the tape again and a picture of his sister flashed across the stats. Schuldich sat upright, waving his hand in my face.  
  
"Go back, go back," he said, his eyes glued to the screen. Guessing what had prompted his sudden interest, I mentally smacked my forehead and rewound the tape, pausing when the picture came up.  
  
Schuldich leaned forward to see better, his attention focused on the girl who looked to be about 13 in the picture.  
  
"Is this an old pic?"  
  
I read the bit of information that came up next to the image. "No, this is her junior year school picture."  
  
Schuldich sighed wistfully and sat back, this time against the couch cushions. Annoyance began to creep up on me, part from Schuldich's attraction to Kye Sang's sister, and part from the absence of his head on my lap.  
  
"Taketori gave specific instructions not to hurt his sister or any one close to him; all he said was to keep an eye on the guy."  
  
Farfarello looked up from his position on the floor. "No killing?"  
  
I shook my head. "I don't think so, unless we catch him in the act. Even then, I think Taketori doesn't want him harmed. Apparently he's an important asset to the company."  
  
Schuldich snorted. "My ass, Taketori just wants him around for eye candy."  
  
"You know Schuldich, not everyone is as much of a slut as you are," I muttered under my breath. Unfortunately, he was sitting close enough to catch my remark. Obviously about to reply, I clapped a hand over his mouth and pushed the play button again. A few more pictures of Kye Sang faded into each other, until the tape was over. I hit the eject and released my hold on Schuldich. He glared at me as I walked over to put the video back in its box, stashing both into my briefcase.  
  
"You guys can have the next few days off, just make sure that you're prepared to go on Wednesday night. It's a formal event, so dress accordingly." I looked meaningfully at Schuldich, who was the hardest one after Farfarello to get into a suit. He shrugged noncommittally and stood up to leave. I pushed him back down.  
  
"Nagi, you've been staying up late the past few nights, so I want you to be in bed by 10:30. There's leftovers in the refrigerator if you haven't eaten yet." Nagi nodded and yawned, stumbling up the steps. Farfarello wandered back into the kitchen, still holding his knife like a favorite toy. Behind me, I could sense Schuldich getting restless.  
  
I looked down at him, crossing my arms over my chest.  
  
"Is there anything you want to talk about?"  
  
Shrug.  
  
"You seem preoccupied lately. If there's something wrong, I don't want you to be spaced out if the situation gets dangerous on Wednesday."  
  
"There's nothing wrong, Crawford."  
  
I looked at him skeptically, sighing again as I rubbed my temples and walked into my study. Damnit, I still had this headache. From the silence in the other room, I figured Schuldich had left. I sat down in a chair and took off my glasses, closing my eyes as I rested my forehead on my hands. Maybe I should get some aspirin.  
  
Suddenly, the chair was swiveled around and I was staring up into narrowed green ovals, two hands gripping my shoulders.  
  
"Schuldich, what the he-  
  
Thin red lips pressed into mine, shocking me beyond rational thought. Before I could push him off, he wrenched away from me and exited the room, slamming the door behind him. I was left staring in disbelief and wondering if the German had actually just kissed me.  
  
Fuck. Now I REALLY needed an aspirin. 


End file.
